I Hear You Screaming

Prologue

Harry Potter was angry.

He hadn't always been angry. There had been a time when he was a small boy where he was more sad than angry. That was before he knew that on top of not loving him at all, his aunt and uncle had been lying to him for his entire life. That was also before he found out about Voldemort.

Voldemort was the focus of his anger in school. Voldemort was also the reason no one had noticed the steadily building loathing towards everything that developed rapidly over the years of fighting for nothing and trying to carry a responsibility far beyond his age. The anger helped him focus on school. The only way he would ever be able to remove responsibility from his shoulders was to kill Voldemort and so he studied. But resentment can only lay dormant for so long; it won't wait a life time.

By the time the final battle finally took place Harry had no reason to his anger anymore. He hated everything. The closest he came to not hating were his two best friends. Ron was always there making him laugh and distracting him with Quidditch when life got to be too much. Hermione on the other hand treated him like anything but the hero of the wizarding world and he respected her for that. Of course he had loved them once upon a time. They had been his first friends after a lifetime of loneliness and abuse and he had cherished them. But anger is a vicious creature and so the love had soon faded into a mild dislike that, in comparison to the contempt in which he held everything and everyone else, was a positive feeling.

The final battle was the only thing Harry didn't hate thinking about. He dwelt on it for years before it happened, pouring over Muggle and Wizarding strategies alike, telling anyone who disturbed him that he thought strategy would be how they would defeat Voldemort. They would always nod wisely and, with a sad smile at their 'hero', return to whatever they had been doing never noticing the smirk he sent after them. In reality it wasn't the strategies he was looking at (at least not the fighting strategies). Instead he poured for hours on end over ancient and modern methods of eliciting pain. His favorite war was, surprisingly, a Muggle one. While flipping idly through one of the many history books he had borrowed from Hermione he came across a picture. The picture showed a room full of people; their body's barely more than bones from the lack of food. They wore no real clothing and stared sadly at the camera from near lifeless eyes: Jews.

Of course in his years of Muggle schooling before Hogwarts Harry had heard of the holocaust. There weren't many Muggles who weren't given at least cursory knowledge of it. But the Dursleys had seen nothing wrong with Heir Hitler's elimination of the "freaks" – their only spoken regret actually being that the man had not accidentally burnt himself along with the rest of society's outcasts – and so Harry had kept quiet on the topic. Vernon was especially emphatic in his support and any conversation on the matter caused Petunia to wring her hands and check the windows nervously as if the neighbors were hiding in the bushes just waiting for a scandal. Harry had learnt quickly that it was easier to just leave his questions alone. Unfortunately, as a result of his silence, Harry had an extremely skewed version of history. As far as Harry saw it Hitler had simply been a man who had lived before his time.

When the final battle was over and how quickly it had ended, years of careful planning and countless worries concluded in less than an hour, Harry had been at a loss. Voldemort had squirmed delightfully under Harry's final curse before shriveling up and disappearing in a cloud of acrid smoke taking with him everything Harry had lived for. He had been left bereft and considering suicide with the only thing keeping him from it being his lack of good ideas for the manner of his death. He didn't feel it would be fitting for the boy-who-lived to die at his own hands; he would have to frame someone. The sadist within him which had grown to be such a prominent part of his person that he couldn't differentiate between it and the boy he had once been told him to frame Hermione or Albus Dumbledore or some other unsuspecting hindrance to his life thus far. Fortunately for Hermione and Albus Dumbledore the Aurors found Harry standing over Voldemort's final resting place, if you could call the bare patch of ground a resting place, staring vacantly into space with an insane smile spread over his features and transported him to St Mungos for observation.

St Mungos quickly became Harry's least favorite place in the world. This only went to say he loathed everything about it without preamble unlike Hogwarts or the Burrow which he had enjoyed for brief moments before the hatred could seep in. The white rooms with their white walls and furnishings and lighting left his feeling exposed and irritable. The Nurses quickly gave up on entering his room after he attacked two of them when they tried to bring him medications. His status as a hero kept his near insanity on the down low, not that Harry would have cared at this point in his life. He couldn't sleep in the tiny white bed in the tiny white room, it felt too much like a coffin and as much as he was still contemplating a way to end his ruined life he couldn't stomach the thought of sleeping in the ministry designed coffin. His refusal to sleep rapidly developed into a necessary non-somnia and he spent all day and night plotting his escape or daydreaming about what we would do once he escaped. Revenge on the dimwitted fools who had put him in this box was first on the list and he had it planned out in excruciating detail.

He knew that the men were both Aurors and as such they would suffer worse than if they had been any other profession, Aurors had never been kind to the boy wonder and they would come to regret that, Harry was quite certain. Harry was certain in fact of his escape and the carrying out of revenge that he became quite resigned to his limited time stay the hospital. So long as he glowered at anyone who tried to talk to him he would be left alone in his well warded private chamber to sit and wait for the perfect opportunity.

A/N: Alright. This is, of course, just the introduction to what I'm hoping will be a medium length HG/SS fiction. There will be sections from Harry's POV throughout but this should be the only chapter this just features his mind. Thanks for reading PLEASE REVIEW!

Next chapter : we get into the plot (and the chapters get a little longer)